


Hymenated - Demon

by forlovedones



Series: The Hymenated Series [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Dean is a Dick, Dubious Consent, Episode Remix, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Established Relationship, Evil Dean Winchester, Fluff, Genderbending, Handcuffs, Happy Ending, Hermaphrodites, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Omega Dean Winchester, Omegas have two holes, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rutting, Smart Sam Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, lots of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlovedones/pseuds/forlovedones
Summary: Demon Dean is loose in the bunker, stalking his Alpha through the halls. Maybe there'd be time to fuck Sam's brains out first, before he bashed them in with the hammer.(Part of a series of unrelated oneshots.  Enjoy! :D)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: The Hymenated Series [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1364644
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Hymenated - Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first A/B/O fic!
> 
> Just a brief reminder of how the episode "Soul Survivor" starts: Sam's finally caught Demon Dean and has him trapped in the bunker's dungeon. Sam has one arm in a sling. And Cas is on his way to help, hopefully, maybe. 
> 
> Also, in my A/B/O omega have an extra hole. Hermaphrodites are mmm yummy~
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

Dean flexed his arms and tested the rope's elasticity. Not much give… the damn enchanted shackles were stealing his strength.

He smirked anyway as Sam approached him. "Sammy, you know I hate needles."

Sam looked him in the eyes for the first time since his capture. "I hate demons," he said, and stuck the blood-filled syringe into Dean's arm, above the Mark, pushing in what must actually be liquid magma.

It lit the smoke inside him like embers rolling over. Dean’s eyes flashed black and he roared.

\---

Dean's head lulled sideways. How many times was it now? Hard to count while dying. Because the sanctified blood was killing him, he was certain of that. Huh… turns out he cared as much about that as he did killing people, these days.

"I know you're there, Sam," he said to the dark, empty room.

Sam didn't answer.

Dean took a deep breath. "I can smell you. Can always smell when you're close can't I?" He chuckled.

He heard Sam shift in the storage room outside the dungeon, and caught a whiff of something else. Not so much a smell as a… potency.

Dean laughed. "Wow, really? Really Sam?" He breathed deep, soaking it in. "Did you miss me that much? I guess it has been, what, six months?"

The fake shelf wall shifted, flooding the room with light, and Sam came in to work at the stainless steel table. The sharply angled light made it easy to see his hairline was sweaty and his hands were shaking.

Dean breathed in the scent of the alpha's approaching rut and licked his lower lip. "Or maybe this turns you on huh? Me like this?" He flexed against the ropes and chains. "Never tried much of the hard stuff before have we? Well maybe that time in Palo Alto. Remember that? Fucking on your girlfriend's living room floor? You kept my arms pinned and stuffed your shirt in my mouth to keep me quiet. Guess it didn't matter in the end though, all burnt to hell when she died on the ceiling-"

Sam slammed a hand down with a loud bang.

Mmm. Better than any bar fight. “Does it still keep you up at night? Knowing that if you hadn’t followed after my wet cunt she might still be alive?” Dean spread his knees, slowly, purposefully. “Don’t beat yourself up. I get it! I’m irresistible.”

Sam turned, but he didn’t even glance at Dean’s package, the bitch. He stepped in front of Dean and leaned down, down, so the hand of his bad arm could grip Dean’s exposed bicep. Face to face.

Dean felt a small thrill, his first one in… well a while.

But Sam didn’t say anything. He just stuck the next needle in, and Dean roared through the pain burning in his veins, his head, his core.

\---

His next groggy thought was his wrists had a wiggle to them.

Yup. If he shifted them back and forth the ropes rolled with them. Like he had a bit more strength, and a bit more room. He twisted and they snapped.

Dean pulled them off and looked around. He took a breath. The circle felt less… oppressive. He reached for the shackles on his ankles, and they hardly burned at all.

With growing glee he tore out the lock mechanism and stepped out of the demon circle. It was like walking through a live wire, but even that just made his heart beat fast and his grin spread wide, showing more teeth.

So... what would he do now?

\---

Sam’s scent clung to the bunker’s walls, thick in the air, having been here alone for so many months. There was something else there too… a crispness. Like frost, but not cold. He couldn’t quite place it.

Whatever. Who cares what potpourri Sam burned while he was away; he wasn’t a damn bloodhound, he was a damn demon, dammit.

Well… he was pretty sure he was still mostly a demon. He poked at his feelings, like poking at a loose tooth.

After his change it had taken him a long time to kill his first human. He was all demon but still had his human memories, and he could remember how crippling his human feelings were. He honestly worried they’d suddenly come back, or he'd suddenly change back, and if that happened... Whatever human he thought about fileting just didn't seem worth the risk. He was happy just being an ass most of the time, free of the Hunter ball and chain.

The Mark wouldn’t put up with that passivity forever though.

He sifted through the junk drawer, contemplating the cleaver, the hammer… Mmm hammer, yeah. The blood splatter, the dull crack of breaking bone, nice solid wood grip. The Mark hummed. He picked it up and shut the drawer.

Being a demon is all about taking what you want. Well… time to take.

He glanced at the countertop and something else caught his eye: a two foot piece of rebar. Oh yeah. That’d do.

\---

He saw Sam before Sam saw him. Not Sam’s fault, the poor kid, he was making all the right moves... Time to see if he’d make the right one now, too.

Dean’s hammer bit deep into the concrete where Sammy’s head had been and stuck there. Dean savored the shock up his arm from the concrete, the sting in his fingers.

Maybe it was Sam’s fear, or his rut, or indecision, or his chicken wing arm – whatever it was, Sam’s feet slipped as he spun around, just a bit.

Dean poked him in the chest with the rebar, and Sam went down, dropping the dagger to catch his fall with his one good hand.

Dean tutted. He put a boot on Sam’s chest, pinning him. “Really Sammy… I expected more.” He really had. He felt the Mark’s displeasure, wanting action, wanting blood. He tamped it down again, for the zillionth time, annoyed. He had things he wanted too, dammit.

Sam's good hand gripped Dean’s ankle, and it was all a bit boring. Dean poked Sam’s chest with the rebar to keep him down and shifted his boot lower, his heel pressing on a lump in Sam’s pants. Sam made a noise and his eyes shot wide and, yeah, that was better.

Dean’s mouth curled into a grin. “Poor Sammy… all alone, all summer long, pining after my ass. Still haven’t gotten over your demon addiction have you? Bet you were half hard the whole time, trying to hunt me down huh? Best of both worlds right now.” He pushed down hard and Sam’s jaw shook with the effort not to yell out. Such a tough boy. “Did you fuck any of those demons you tortured?”

Man Sam’s glare was delicious: half hunter, half brother, all pissed. Dean had missed that, maybe.

“Bet you didn’t. Just wasted it in the shower, like always.” Dean shifted his grip and struck, stabbed the rebar down, inches from Sam’s face. It chipped the cement and Sam flinched as shrapnel cut his cheek.

Dean finally moved his foot and crouched down. “I did.”

Sam breathed through his nose a bit, indecisive, but he took the bait. “Did what?”

“Fuck them. Demons, humans… Fucked my way through half the country. One long, hard tour of America’s best knots. And pussies,” he added as an afterthought.

Sam shook, probably with anger. Jealousy.

Oh yeah. This was what Dean had stuck around to see: that look on Sam’s face. So damn gratifying. Maybe the kid was finally starting to see the creature Dean had become.

He shifted his feet wide and sat on Sam’s middle. “Ooo sorry, Sam. Didn’t you know?” He leaned forward, and said softer, deeper, “When they’d ask about my mating mark? I’d laugh. Funniest shit in the world.”

Sam bucked then, but it was useless. Too little, too late. Dean laughed. “Whoa there cowboy. Easy.” He picked up the rebar again.

Sam stopped. He watched the bar. "Hang on- Dean-"

Dean gripped it in two hands, then bent it. Easy as rubber, so he still had most of his demon strength. Awesome.

“Sh-shit,” Sam muttered.

Dean twisted the two sides into a loose figure eight. Then he picked the dagger up off the ground, and reached for Sam’s gimp arm.

Sam tried to twist away. “Wait- Wait!” Dean grabbed the sling, jerked the dagger through the straps, and tugged the sling off. “What-?” Sam gasped.

Huh, no cast underneath. Sprain? He tossed both the dagger and fabric aside, and grabbed the wrist. Sam let a gasp of pain escape. Dean pulled the arm forward, and put the rebar on like a bracelet.

Sam got it then. His eyes got all big. He tried to pull back. “No, come on Dean- Dean!”

Dean held the arm and squeezed the rebar one-handed. It clamped tight around Sam’s wrist. He got Sam’s other wrist, and pulled it in.

“Just- just kill me if you’re gonna, but-”

Dean squeezed that one shut too. Nice and tight. Even a bit extra across the middle for Dean to grab. Sweet.

“Jesus,” Sam said.

Dean grinned. “Yeah. Good luck getting out of that huh?” He dropped Sam’s hands and they thunked to his chest under the weight, his gimp arm less than useless. Sam winced.

This was so perfect. Why hadn’t he done it months ago? Dean shifted his crotch back a bit. “Now here’s how it’s gonna go Sam…” Sam bucked. Dean put a hand in Sam’s hair and pinned him. “I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want. And you’re just gonna take it. And we’ll see what’s left over when I’m done.”

Dean felt the smoke boiling inside him, twisting through his vessel, rotting the blood Sam had given him so far. How the hell had Crowley ever gotten addicted to the stuff? It felt foreign and syrupy inside him.

Dean shifted back further and gripped Sam’s crotch through his jeans. Sam bit back a noise and twisted, trying to roll away. He dropped Sam’s head with a small push, and it bounced off the concrete floor. Sam's jaw went slack and his eyes unfocused a bit, blinking through the pain.

Dean squeezed again. Sam was hard, rut-hard, and the start of his knot rolled in the jeans in Dean's hand. Mmm yeah. Almost ready. Dean got Ruby's knife again and cut the buckle of Sam's belt, the jean button, parallel the zipper, and a bit down one thigh. The boxers got caught up in it and cut too, like freakin' paper. He put a hand in and could feel the hot rush of Sam's blood through his femoral artery.

It would be so easy. Just another slide, barely any force, and it would spray like a hydrant all over Dean, in his face, his hair, nice and warm-

Dean pushed the Mark away again. He pulled the knife across, opening the jeans like a door, and Sam's poor rut-driven erection popped up, free from all that cotton wrapping.

He squeezed the tendons of both thighs absently, like he used to, before. He'd always loved Sam's junk – clean cut, dusky velvet skin, just the right amount of treasure trail and muscle and thigh gap, just the right heft and curve.

Little red from Dean’s abuse. Maybe Dean liked that more.

“Dean don’t,” Sam moaned, “don’t.”

“What? Saving yourself? Sam, we viking-funeraled that ages ago. Or maybe..." He lifted a boot and dropped it on Sam's bad arm. Sam hissed in pain. Dean gripped the erection, tight. “...you don’t want to taint your memory of him.”

Sam panted, blinked at the ceiling.

“He’s gone, Sam. Or, really, he’s right here. The new me. I’m right here, Sam.” He unbuckled his belt.

“You’re not him,” Sam said through his teeth.

Dean chuckled. Freaking hilarious. “Maybe you’ll recognize this part better huh?” He opened his jeans and pushed them off his ass. Sam bucked again, but this time it seemed… involuntary. “Smell me now? Bet you do. Alpha slut.” He reached down and pushed at his small gap, his omega hole, behind his cock, and could feel his heartbeat there.

He’d been surprised at first. Plenty of demons don’t have a heartbeat, sulfur pumping the blood through their vessels like lava. He did, though. And he ran hot, so hot.

He could feel, just at the entrance, how slippery he was already. So damn ready.

"Please- Dean please, don't, not this. Not this."

Dean looked up. Sam had his biggest, scrunchiest puppy eyes going.

Did he seriously not get it?

Angry, Dean got both feet under himself, and a few fingers to guide the rod in, right at the perfect spot, and sat down.

Sam gasped. His feet shifted on the concrete, and he pulled at the rebar around his wrists.

Sam ran hot too. They were brothers, after all.

"You remember our first time? Holed up in that shitty motel in Dallas?" He lifted his hips, up and down, almost absently. "You were barely, what, sixteen?" He laughed as he fucked. "You shoulda seen this coming then. I mean, what kinda big brother does that? I was always hellbound Sam.”

Sam was breathing through his teeth, big puffs, and looked away. Dean grabbed his chin and turned his face back around. Those big eyes were brimming.

“Don’t blame yourself Sammy,” he cooed. “I mean I got you hooked on the romance- nghm-" man, that tingle, so good, "romance so quick, it was easy. Begged me to let you bite me. I’m all you had. Might as well have been in the Cage together-”

“Shut up,” the human muttered.

Dean laughed. “Hey man, if the truth hurts-”

“I said shut up, monster freak!” Sam, with an effort, lifted the rebar to wack the demon off him.

Dean caught it easy, and pushed the arms back down. “Or what? You’re too weak Sam!” He pinned the hands to Sam’s stomach and used it as leverage to really fuck now. Fast and hard, riding that rod, and Sam’s hips shifted with him like he couldn’t help it. “Too weak to save yourself! Too weak to close the gates of hell! Or to save even one person you loved in your whole goddamn life! And too-” he pushed with his hips to emphasize, “damn- weak- to do what you have to t’stop me now.” He sat hard, curved his back down, gripped Sam’s long hair, and talked into his ear. “I mean, the dagger’s been right here the whole time.”

Dean saw Sam’s eyes glance toward the weapon. It was true that it was just sitting there on the ground, just beside Sam. It was even on his dominant side.

Dean reached for it, lifted it, and pressed it into Sam’s hand between their bellies. He gripped Sam’s fingers around the handle.

“Do it, Sam.”

Dean’s hard cock slipped up and down in Sam’s flannel shirt. He squeezed his kegel muscles tight and bore down.

"Do it!"

Sam’s hips spasmed up and his legs shifted, trying to get deeper, knot finally popping and hot cum spilling into Dean’s hole.

Dean clenched around it and breathed savagely, deeply into his own orgasm, and he could feel it, feel the monster in him, filling him to the brim.

There was a clatter. Sam had dropped the dagger.

Dean had a perfect, close up view of Sam’s eyes as he screwed them shut, finally pushing the tears over the edge, even as he groaned through his teeth, his rut-cock coming again. Dean shivered as he was pumped full, deep and wet.

He hugged Sam’s head tight with one arm and chuckled. “Then this is on you. This is all you.”

\---

After the knot deflated again Dean dragged Sam by his wrists down the hall to Cas’ room. It was the closest one and if Dean remembered right-

Yup, the headboard was one of those fancy old wood ones with like 5 knobs at the top. Plenty of room to work. He tossed Sam on the bed. “Now don’t go anywhere, you wait here like a good boy.”

Sam glared at him. Dean had gagged the hunter with his own boxers and remnants of his brown belt, and tied his legs with his jeans. He looped the rebar-handcuffed hands over one of the knobs of the headboard and squeezed them shut around it. Nice and tight. Dean wasn’t even sure Sam would leave if he could, not with that hard-on.

If Sam was smart he’d at least try to make a run for it. Dean couldn’t help grinning. He kind of liked the idea of another chase through the hallways. Maybe if it came to that he’d have to do something more drastic… like snap a leg. Cut a ligament.

Cripple, kill, destroy, the Mark urged.

Maybe later, Dean thought.

He went to the door, broke off the knob on the inside, then shut it behind him. Good enough. He had a bit of work to do before he could have more fun.

It took a while to get the angel warding up around the bunker. Those Bitches of Letters had a system in place, of course, and that only took a flip of a switch. But just to be safe he put up sigils himself too, on all the doors and at the four way points.

He used Ruby’s knife to draw the blood needed for the sigils, enjoying how it stung and sent bits of lightning up the nearest veins. The lightning played around a bit in the scar of the Mark, then died out.

He finished his last smear of blood and licked his fingers. There. No way Castiel or anyone would be interrupting them now. Dean had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted with his alpha. He'd get his fill of fucking him, then when he finally got bored of that he'd leave the body somewhere for Castiel to find. Or maybe just parts of it.

Mmm that had him tightening up a bit inside, slicking up again. He licked his lower lip and shifted. He wanted to start again already.

Was it his heat? Must be. Not odd for a rut to trigger a heat. Weird, though… he hadn’t had a heat three months ago when he was supposed to so he’d assumed demons just didn’t have those.

Just like they usually don’t have a pulse. Just like they usually don’t have a vessel. Dean was just special, obviously; no surprise there.

He followed Sam’s scent down the halls, back the way he’d come. That odd crispness in the air was still there, too. Maybe it was part of Sam’s scent? Maybe he’d changed a bit, too, in the last six months.

The room’s door was still shut. Dean shoved it open, breaking the door jam. It was so damn easy. It kind of was too bad he didn’t hunt anymore, the things he could do-

The smell inside hit him like a wall. He huffed out a breath so he could fill his lungs with it.

Sam was sprawled out on the bed. He’d gotten the jeans off his legs, but that was it; he hadn’t gotten the gag out or his hands free. His legs were spread wide with that cock sticking straight up, angry red, ass muscles twitching.

Sam’s face was half covered with his own hair, chin on his chest, and didn’t look up as Dean entered... or when he sat on the bed, leaned over, and gave his crotch a good whiff. Dean spanked his thigh and Sam twitched. “Come on Sammy, don’t pout. Thought this was what you wanted.” Dean shifted between Sam’s legs and cupped Sam’s dormant knot with one hand, licked the tip, and looked up at Sam through his lashes.

Sam glanced over then, but seemed to force himself to look away again.

That rankled. “Look at me Sam. I said look at me!” he growled deep and squeezed the knot sack.

Sam groaned his pain and tried to twist away, but he looked.

“Good boy.” Dean let up his grip and went back to suckling the tip. Mmm Sammy tasted good. Everything tasted better as a demon–heightened–but Sam was like a freaking banquet. Being this close, tasting it, breathing it, like huffing paint.

Sam jerked and leaked a bit of pre-knot into Dean’s mouth. He swallowed and, woah, okay… Dean went for the gold and wrapped his whole mouth around the cock, swallowing deep.

Muffled, uncontrolled noises came from behind the gag. Dean didn't give his brother much thought, focused on his prize. It'd been a while since he'd gotten his fill of alpha cum, and looked forward to the natural high it usually gave omegas. He could take his time, take his fill, enjoy it. Sam was so keyed it wouldn’t take much – a squeeze here, lick, vacuum suck, and boom, easy as pie. He swallowed it all and, god, he felt it all the way down, like hot coffee. The hell?

He pulled off and gasped for air he technically didn’t need.

Sammy was too, practically hyperventilating. Dean found the wheezy sound annoying, so he sat up and yanked the gag off. It ripped, leaving angry red welts on Sam’s face.

“Ready to beg yet Sammy?”

Sam took big, steadying breaths, and shook his hair off his face. “Dean… we were almost there.”

Not this again. He’d heard enough of it in the hallway. Dean sat up and shifted around.

“You were almost human again! Dean, please, it’s not too late, please, just- mphf!”

Dean sat on his face to shut him up, and bent over to grab Sam’s cock again. “Okay Sammy… you’re gonna get me ready for our next round, and I’m gonna resist the urge to start breaking bones. Or boners. Deal?” Dean got busy working that erection to full mast again, and he wasn’t surprised when he felt a mouth and tongue start to get to work between his legs. Sam had always been the pragmatic one.

Sam’s mouth was hot. Hot! Seriously, maybe he really had fucked those demons or, or someone while Dean was gone, because he’d gotten… better at all this. He swirled his tongue behind Dean’s balls then down into the small omega hole with the flat of his tongue, then nipped it shut, and open again, warm- wet- so damn wet-

Getting wetter. Dean was leaking slick from deep inside himself in small shudders, keyed by smell and instinct.

Dean realized he’d been moaning, frozen, forgetting to move. He grit his teeth and let his eyes turn black. Focus! He gripped Sam’s junk and twisted, rolling it around, gave it a good slap- gotta get it hard, gotta get it ready.

Sam stabbed his tongue in and Dean groaned, pushing down into it. “Yeah Sam- yeah, christ-” A drop leaked from Sam’s tip and Dean licked it up, and his legs shuddered around Sam's face. Why the hell did this feel like a fight? They were fighting, and he was losing- winning- something!

It was definitely his heat, had to be, just a- an extra fast one that’s all, like when he was fourteen, so crippling he let Sam use the stove for the first time to heat them up some Kraft. Couldn’t even take care of his little brother, never really could-

Dean gripped Sam’s leg so hard he could feel bones shift. Sam yelped, and the pair of them jerked apart.

It took long seconds for Dean to stop shaking.

Okay, okay… this was fine. It’s what he wanted, so he’d just take it, simple as that. Demons take, demons lie. He just… wanted it a bit more than he expected, that’s all. Maybe demons had super-heats. Crowley might have even mentioned it – he prattered on so damn much Dean only listened to like a tenth of his orientation speech.

“Dean?”

Dean made sure to keep his eyes black, and dismounted Sam’s face. “You sure you haven’t been slutting around Sam? I think you’re getting better at this huh?” He swung around to straddle Sam’s hips. “Or maybe you’ve been taking notes from the Pizza Man again.”

Sam actually rolled his eyes at that. “Sure. The one where the Pizza Man gets tied up and raped by his soulless, demon-shit brother. Yeah, one of my favorites.”

Dean chuckled. “Raped, really?”

Sam shrugged his good arm, pulling at the metal cuffs. “Sure as hell seems like it to me!” There was that anger back in his voice, his I-hate-demons voice.

“Well maybe you’re right,” Dean conceded, smug, in control again. “Won’t make a difference though, I’m still gonna do it. Make you my bitch for real, Sam, just like you’ve always wanted.”

Sam breathed deep, all rage and indignation. "Like hell."

Liar. Dean slid his ass back, rolled his crack along that shaft, loving the stretch of arching his back, the warm body between his thighs. He lay down and nuzzled into the hunter's neck. "Alpha," he purred, deep and gravely, "want you so bad. Want you inside me, in my 'mega hole," and he did, "deep in there against my womb. Stretching me so good with your fat knot. Don’t you?”

His alpha growled, arms shaking. Dean grinned into his neck and nuzzled the old scar there. “You’ll fill me up right? Wanna be filled up Sammy.” He rocked his hips back. “If you do it good enough maybe I’ll keep you huh? Keep you here, on this bed, just for me, forever.” Until Dean decided which body part to leave for Cas, at least. Maybe right in the Impala's driver seat.

He reached a hand back to line Sam’s cock up properly, pressing on the tip. Sam’s back arched, lifting them both up as Dean scratched his teeth against the mating mark on his neck. “Haven't you figured it out yet? Y’can’t fight me Sam.”

Sam groaned his frustration, and Dean felt his legs spread open further as Sam pushed up with his feet, curling into Dean’s body.

Good enough. Dean chuckled and finally gripped that rod tight, sliding it in his waiting hole. Fuck, so good, sliding in like that. Slick ran down the inside of his thigh, and he felt his own heartbeat in his crotch, deep inside where he wanted Sam to touch him.

Honestly, looking back on it without his stupid human rose-tinted glasses, before his change most of their fucking had been pretty sparse and one-sided, Sam pushing him around whenever he finally got in the mood. Not this time. Dean was the sadistic one now. He rolled his crotch down, reveling the stretch as Sam’s tip pushed at the back wall of his hole, just the right amount of pressure. He pulled up, and pushed down, and could feel the cock was already getting bigger, knot growing so easy, completely out of the alpha’s control. He squeezed his inside muscles around it, savoring it, could almost taste it.

“Dean,” Sam groaned. He was shaking. “Dean- hah-!” He cried out as Dean closed his teeth on Sam’s neck, hard, biting deep bruises over old scars there. His voice was rough, and a bit high, like he might actually start crying. God wouldn’t that be awesome. Dean rolled his hips forward and back, then up and down again before he finally unclenched his jaw. He sat up to admire the deep red marks there.

Sam’s head swung loosely on his neck, eyes following Dean’s face, obviously losing focus fast. Dean rode him a bit and watched as Sam tossed under him, long cords of his neck pulled tight, jaw locked to try and keep the noises in.

The demon didn’t have any such reservations. He moaned like a whore, then laughed, then moaned again as a fat knot popped inside him and wouldn’t pull back out, couldn’t pull back out. Hot liquid slid over the hole to his womb, he could feel it in there like it was part lightning. “Mmm Sammy… fuck, nnn, that’s good!”

A few noises escaped through Sam’s clenched teeth, his eyes pointed up somewhere at the ceiling. Dean gripped both sides of his head and turned that face back towards him. He laughed as his alpha’s vision focused on him. “C’mon Sammy, gimme more.” He squeezed his omega muscles and Sam’s legs twitched, pushing up into their connection. More cum pumped out into him. Dean shuddered, high on the power of it. “More!” he demanded, “C'mon!”

Sam’s knot pumped into him for half an hour like that, way longer than usual. When it finally deflated Dean went straight into their next round, no breaks, no separation. He had more than enough inhuman stamina for it, after all, and Sam’s rut would keep him mostly hard for at least another day, maybe more. Sure, maybe the alpha’s cock would be getting tender soon, rubbed raw, but what did Dean care about that?

Another half hour or so of riding and his alpha spilled again.

And again.

Honestly, it was getting kind of gross. The blankets under their hips were wet with it. Maybe he could help with that. Next time they untied he dismounted and licked up Sam’s hard thighs, between his legs, over his balls, sucking up cum and slick and warm flesh, maybe biting a bit more than he should, and finding he liked the hot metallic taste of blood too when he got a bit too rough. All of it was settling inside him, warming him up.

Hours of this. Sam only half conscious. What time was it anyway? Did it matter? Dean sucked his alpha’s cock and whined when he couldn’t get anything to come out. “Up here,” he heard Sam say, and Dean climbed up again to straddle Sam’s crotch and try to get cum out that way.

Oh that felt good. God, he felt high.

It worked. The knot popped again and filled him up, up to the brim, so warm and welcome inside, the head of the alpha's cock pressing hard on that perfect spot-

Oh damn. Okay- okay, new plan. Dean had to keep him. Best sex of his life. Of his- his afterlife, whatever. Didn’t matter why–Dean wanted him, so he could just keep him right? That’s what demon-ing is all about. Demon- demonology?

“Sam?” He said, eyes swimming into focus again. He blinked, and felt like something should be changing, but wasn’t. He shouldn't be shaking like that. He should…

Dean’s legs spasmed, then tried to stand, but he was stuck on the knot. Maybe he panicked a bit, then, and he heard Sam groan something about waiting, but he just pushed harder till they popped apart, then jumped up and slammed the door behind him.

\---

Dean marched along the circular hall, naked, legs wet, growling deep in his chest. What was this? This wasn’t- this wasn’t just a regular heat, it was- he could still smell Sam, it was all he could breathe. This was all-consuming. He needed Sam, to breathe. He needed- but he didn't need to breathe, right?

He’d come to the library, and it was all around him. Sam’s scent, marked into the walls, into the table, on all the doors. And he'd marked them himself too, every door with his own blood and scent, the two of them mixing together in the air. He was surrounded by it. Marked, scented, claimed. What had Sam been doing here, all alone, all these months? They were safe here. He was safe here, warded, protected, nothing could get in. No angels, no demons. This place was his. And Sam wouldn’t get out. Nothing could get out.

His feet took him down the hall again, past his old room. He stopped at Sam’s, heaving deep breaths. It was even stronger here. He went to Sam’s empty bed and rubbed his forehead into the pillow, squeezing his black eyes shut, shuddering deep inside, every muscle alive, grabbing the old wood floor with his toes.

He was outside that other room again soon, a pillow in his hand. He dropped it, and used both hands to twist at the door handle. It wouldn’t open. Broken. He’d broken it. He shoved with his shoulder and the door didn’t give right away. He took a step back, then slammed forward, the wood door buckling under the force of it.

Light from the hall filtered in. Sam was still there, on the bed, head on the pillows, eyes out of sight.

Legs spread wide. Chest heaving with huge, rut-driven breaths.

Dean stalked forward, crawled onto the bed, between those long legs. He humped their crotches together and sucked on Sam’s neck, nose behind his ear, rubbing his forehead in all that stupid hair. His alpha shifted beneath him, they shifted together and Dean moaned. He had to… had to. He got up again and straddled Sam’s crotch and pushed himself back onto that cock, sliding it in where it belonged. He sighed, almost groaned, like he’d lost at something, but he didn’t know what.

Sam started first. He bent his legs to get some purchase with his feet and fucked up into Dean’s soft insides, bouncing him there. Dean huffed as he was bounced, in, in, hammering on his insides. Felt so good. Dean moaned and gripped at Sam’s shoulders. “Fffuck- fuckin' hell, what-”

“S’okay,” Sam murmured. “Just- Dean-”

Neither could breathe. They both fucked faster. Dean was close- so damn- he cried out as he shuddered, losing control of his legs. His eyes felt smoky, dry. He couldn’t stop blinking. He looked up, trying to focus.

“Dean, hey- it’s okay.”

They made eye contact and Sam- Sam was more in control than he’d thought. Those hazel eyes were focused. Dean blinked, confused, pegged in place, wrapped warm around Sam’s rod. “Sam?” he moaned as it twitched inside him. “What- what’s happening?”

Sam looked into his eyes, filled with a familiar warmth and determination. Dean watched as every muscle in Sam’s arms tensed, then jerked forward, and the knob on the bed frame holding his cuffs snapped in half.

Sam lifted his rebar-cuffed arms over Dean’s back and gripped his ass with two warm, strong hands. “Just hold on Dean... We’re almost there.”

“Almost-” Dean parrotted, then gasped again when Sam sat forward and lifted Dean up, then down, slamming in hard. He felt that through his whole body, up and down his spine. Sparks. Sparks, inside, where there should only be smoke. “Ha- _aah!_ Sam!”

Sam gripped him tighter and fucked him harder, hard and fast into the omega’s hole. Then he rolled them over, overtop his omega, pushing his hips up as he fucked back in. Dean’s whole world spun, inside and out, something pumping like bellows on his smoky demon insides. He was getting hotter. Hot like fire, like sunlight, inside. He moaned through it.

Sam was still talking to him, between each deep breath. “Almost there Dean- almost there, promise, just one more-”

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s back, gripping the torn and soiled flannel in both hands. The whole bed was rocking, slamming into the wall now, battering ram hammering on fortress doors, trapped inside himself.

“Just one more Dean- Dean-!”

The knot was so close, so close to popping, Dean held on with shaking hands, desperate for it to catch in him, fill him up-

Sam slammed in, and Dean's orgasm hit, rolling through him. Sam held still as Dean moaned and twitched, getting wetter and hotter inside, stretched wide open.

Then Sam pulled completely out, leaving Dean empty, desperate- he mewled his disappointment, his need. Sam shushed him gently and rose up on his hands and knees, pushing Dean down into the bed. “Dean- open your-” the cuffed hands gripped the hair on Dean’s forehead and tilted him back. Dean’s mouth opened automatically, stretched wide, and Sam shoved his cock all the way in. It hit the back of Dean’s throat, and the omega swallowed around it, humming. Everything was so hot.

Sam fucked in, and through the rush of blood in his own ears Dean could hear him talking, saying something. Something, but-

“-omnis immundus spiritus. Hanc animam redintegra-"

It burned. The room lit up. Stark shadows lined the walls all around them.

“Lustra!” Sam shouted, shoving his cock down Dean’s throat, his knot popping behind Dean’s teeth. “Lustra!”

Sam came, and something exploded.

Dean roared, then whined, high and out of control, and he couldn't see, could only see blinding white light. His alpha's cock in his mouth was his only anchor to the real world. He felt Sam's cum in him again, for the eighth time he realized almost existentially, out of his own head as what should have been a small spurt down his throat rushed through every corner of his body, down each limb to ricochet in his fingers and toes and back again, exploding in his head. His whole inside collapsed in on itself, pulled into a tight ball, then ignited, lit up again as his soul caught fire, brought back to life, light pouring out of every orifice, and the black in his eyes sputtered, then died.

\---

The next thing Dean could register feeling was fingers in his short hair, and rebar squishing his ear.

He was sore, and tired, but probably alive. Feelings swirled in him, tender with disuse. Sam. Sam. He made a noise.

“Hang on Dean, just a sec, just- just let me check-”

Cold water splashed across him and Dean sputtered awake, eyes open, sight swimming, in a bed–beds aren’t supposed to get wet. "Fuck- shit-"

Sam made a noise, almost a laugh, and Dean knew that noise. It meant they were all alive, that they’d survived… survived something. Just barely survived something again. 

Dean shifted. Sam hissed a bit as he lifted his hands out of Dean’s way. Dean’s eyes drifted as he sat up, looking around. Sam's flannel, Sam’s neck. “Sam?”

Sam grinned up at him. “Yeah Dean, it’s me. And you're you.”

Sam had a flask of holy water he'd pulled out, probably from the bedside table.

“Sam what-” Sam’s neck was covered in bruises and blood, welts and cuts on his face, black eye, knotted hair, hands- hands, shit, stuck in bent rebar, clothes ripped, and lower- Dean jerked his eyes back up to Sam’s face as Sam’s hands closed over his chin.

“Dean. Calm down. It’s okay, it’s-”

Dean jerked back. “What- what in the hell, Sam-”

Sam’s mouth tightened as he obviously breathed through some pain, and his hands fell down again. “Dean, s'okay, but think you could uh- could get this off me?” He lifted the rebar up an inch then let it thump back down onto his own chest.

Dean… couldn’t. It wouldn’t bend at all. “It- what happened? How did you-?”

“It was my sperm.”

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t have to be sanctified blood, to cure a demon, just any sort of bodily fluid. Anything with human DNA, you know? At least I was pretty sure of that.”

“Pretty sure?” Dean echoed. He was having a hard time tracking. His fingers pulled at the rebar.

“Yeah, in case the blood didn’t work. You weren’t a normal, average demon, Dean, so I had no idea what would work. So I- the blood was obviously killing you, so I-"

“How the hell do you sanctify spunk?” Dean growled, incredulous.

“Not, uh, not directly. I just did a confessional with the priest that sanctified the blood for me. He," Sam chuckled, "he's probably gonna need therapy, poor guy. I also did like a hundred different purification rituals on the bunker. I wanted to make sure it’d count as Holy Ground."

That smell was still in the air, that sharp, cold, clean smell, pure smell-

"Then there’s honestly a ridiculous amount of spells out there for triggering a rut. When it became obvious the blood wasn’t working-”

“What? But… when? How did you- when did you have time for all that?” Dean’d only been here, like, less than a day right?

“Dean,” Sam said in that patronizing way of his, “I've been hunting you for six months. You think I wouldn’t have a Plan B?”

Plan B his ass. Freakin’ broke the alphabet with all his plans, Dean was sure. Dean's own lazy, bar-hopping, demon ass never really stood a chance.

Dean pulled on the rebar again, and Sam hissed in pain. Dean stopped. “Your shoulder?”

“My elbow. Sprained it. A month ago. It’s okay, it’ll heal, just hurts when you jerk it like- ow!”

Dean bounced his fist off Sam's head. “What the hell Sam? Seriously- I was a demon! How the hell- what, you seriously thought I'd jump your ass the second you wagged it in my direction? What if I didn't? I coulda killed you! I was _gonna_ kill you!"

Sam snorted at that. "Dude," he said, tired, affectionate, "I've seen your search history… I knew exactly what your demon would be into. It was easy."

Things were making sense now. Connecting. Sam letting the demon win. Sam playing it like his arm was out of commission, and all the begging, the- the crocodile tears. Filling the bunker with his Alpha scent. Untying his own legs, but not his hands. Glaring, but still fucking his cum in as deep as he could. "You're an asshole. You're- that was so goddamn stupid! Seriously, Sam, you-"

Sam snorted.

Dean glared down at him, and their eyes met, and Dean gripped his face and kissed his mate hard. The alpha took it, and blinked up at him when they pulled apart again.

“Dean? Could you… I think we’re gonna need help, to get these off me. Maybe call Cas?”

Like he'd been summoned, they both heard a loud bang on the bunker's front door. Then another, and another.

Sam propped himself up under Dean. "We need pants."

“Maybe in a bit,” Dean said, rocking their crotches together. Sam’s eyes got all big. Dean pushed him back down again and grinned at him. God, he loved him so damn much. “Freakin’ saved me with your magic holy dick, dude- I gotta say ‘thank you’ right?” He was still in heat, after all.

Sam made the most incredulous, most disbelieving noise he’d ever made in his life. And Dean laughed, kinda drunk on his own squishy feelings, pinned his alpha down by his tied-up hands, and kissed him again.

\---

Eventually Castiel did bend the rebar off Sam’s wrists, easy as rubber. It was harder to look the brothers in the eye, like looking at two twin suns, brighter than any angel's fiery grace. Souls are like that, though it was a bit indecent the way they both blazed with it, filled to the cusp with love and devotion and power.

He decided to forgive them for the hour he'd spent trying to break through the bunker's angel wardings, only to find them safe and human and smelling distinctly of creamy bodily fluids on top of his own bed.

Dean planted a wet kiss on his cheek. "Thanks Cas. Think you could do us another favor?" he asked as he worked on patching his alpha up.

Omegas. Overly affectionate, manipulative nightmares. At least, Dean always was. "What would that be?"

"We're starving, man. I'd sacrifice a virgin for burger and fries right now, swear to god. That place on Third Avenue-"

Winchesters... They were both human again, mortal once more, but Castiel was finally beginning to see that they might be the real monsters... and perhaps had been all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few screwy story side notes: 
> 
> Sam didn't want to use his own blood to complete the cure just in case that had some residual Trial problems. He loosened Dean's ropes to let him out; he didn't really feel like raping his own brother in that dungeon chair, and didn't think he needed to. He also didn't want to just rape the demon bc he believed the change would have a much higher chance of succeeding if received more willingly, from someone motivated by love, like the Father who came up with the original cure. So he focused on trapping Dean in the bunker, with his scent marking the whole place. (And before your imagination goes wild, 'marking' just involves rubbing up against things a bit, you pervs.)
> 
> He was worried when Dean actually handed him the dagger, worried he'd give his plan away when he didn't stab him; luckily Dean wasn't thinking with his upstairs brain haha
> 
> Sam had holy water and other demon-tools hidden in every room, not just Cas'. He also had demon traps in the vehicles and strategically placed around the bunker, in case Dean did decide to leave. So yeah, plans A-Z for sure.
> 
> I first thought of writing this while re-watching Father Thompson create the demon-cure, ending with him cutting his palm and shoving his bloody hand into the demon's mouth for the 8th administration, and I was like o.o what if something else had to be shoved in insteeaaad... -.- Yeah I'm probably broken.
> 
> I hope you liked this one. The 'Soul Survivor' episode has got to be the most fanfic remixed Supernatural episode on AO3, I just wanted to throw my hat in the ring too haha... I'm worried it turned out a bit drawn out and repetative bc I had NO idea going in how hard it'd be to narrate ppl copulating 8 freaking times, but whatever. Let me know what you thought, questions and comments are super welcome~!
> 
> For y'all who are curious I have like 5 more of these oneshots in the works. I'm sure I'll post them eventually, but who knows when cuz, y'know, life. But if you have some ideas you'd like to share I'm always looking for more inspiration! I'm also working on a completely canon-complaint, super long, no slash/porn, alternate ending to Season 15. And a canon-compliant, super long, no slash but probably soulmates, case-fic that's almost done.
> 
> Annnd that's about it.... Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :)


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